


Quietude

by ruebbish



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - High School, And I mean a LOT, Background/Implied Jeffmads, Basically a modernized Hamilton so bear with me, Implied Hamgelica, Implied/Past Marliza, M/M, Mostly a Lams fic, Multi, Slow Burn, Some Hamliza, Warning: Lots of cursing, background mullette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 11:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15314070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruebbish/pseuds/ruebbish
Summary: Alexander is severely shook.Isn't that what they say in America?





	1. Severely Shook

**Author's Note:**

> _this work of fanfiction is also posted under my wattpad account, ruebbish_
> 
>  
> 
> hello guys, gals, and nonbinary pals!
> 
> welcome to my first fanfic. hopefully, it won't suck that much, please tell me if it does (in a nice way though)
> 
> constructive criticism is always appreciated.
> 
> i'll try not to kill anyone. (but i make no promises)
> 
> now continue your reading.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander is confused by America.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _this work of fanfiction is also posted on my wattpad account, ruebbish._
> 
>  
> 
> hi!
> 
> thank you for clicking on me, ma friend.
> 
> since this is my first fanfic, please tell me (nicely) if it's awful. i'd like some feedback.
> 
> thank you v much!
> 
>  **warnings:** nothing that i can think of. let me know if i'm wrong.

Alexander is severely shook.

Isn’t that what they say in America?

He’s been on the Internet ever since he got access: studying the American lingo, pop culture, and all things generally modern. When he gets himself situated in New York, he wants to seem like he’s been there his whole life, growing and feeling and learning with the city and all the people who live there with him. He’s finally got the opportunity to reinvent himself to be hip and laid-back, as he’s always envisioned.

(The latter is a transition he’s yet to make.)

He wants a fresh start, a clean slate. A new haircut, maybe, or a nickname. Yeah, a nickname. He’s already brainstormed (Googled) some he’d respond to, Alex, Zander, Lex, or Al, even.

No, not Al.

And though he would never acknowledge it, not to anyone else or even himself, the real reason that he’s doing all this is not for the recognition, or to be more accepted, though that would be nice. It’s to keep himself from being reminded of what happened in his old life.

What happened back in Nevis…

Alex shakes his head, trying to rid his ears of the buzzing he feels. Glancing out the window, though, he knows that won’t be gone anytime soon.

He watches as the ship nears the harbor, bursting at the seams with people. Watching them bustle around, Alex feels the life drain from his chest and feels it swell up to his throat at the same time. Soon he’ll be in his dorm room, filled wall-to-wall with posters and memorabilia from movies from Net-flicks or whatever, and his three roommates will be great. They’ll be totally Squadron Goals.

Or is it Squad Goals? He’ll have to look that up. Americans are weird.

The intercom crackles to life, pushing the daydreams out of his head. The captain’s overly-friendly voice announces the main exit at the side of the boat and urges everyone to call if they find they’ve lost something and reminding them to have a spectacular stay in the City of Dreams.

Slinging his laptop bag onto a shoulder and popping up the metal handle of his suitcase, Alexander makes his way out into the hallway just outside of the boat. He navigates his way around the throngs of people stopped after coming off the boat; a family assembling a collapsing stroller, two young-adult-looking women holding hands and squinting into the sun glaring through the doorway, and a teenager, like Alex, on his phone, excitedly tapping away, with a checkbook and envelope in hand.

Alex paces down the dock, at the end of which passengers are being ushered into a brick building, a large black sign perched above the double doors reading “PASSPORT CHECK AND SECURITY.” He follows the crowd, taking care to not fall off the edge of the pier. Alex looks out over the water as the murky sun warms him, though he still feels the cool, salty ocean breeze creeping up onto the creaky wooden boards and washing over him in waves, chilling him to the bone.

Finally arriving at the massive building, the crowd squeezes Alex through the doorway, garnering him a throbbing bruise on his left shoulder blade and a dent on his suitcase handle.

Alex is greeted with a different kind of warmth once inside when he looks at the tanned, hopeful faces around him, staring up at the greened face and the blazing torch of the statue of Liberty through the window, and feels his heart brimming with familial love. He knows not one of these people, yet he understands what they hope for. He knows what they’re here for.

He allows his mind to wander while he works his way through security, trying to focus on what courses he’ll take, his study schedule, and all things related to his academic career. But every time, his mind redirects itself back to his appearance. What will he dress like, where will he get clothes, will he cut his hair?

He feels chills tingling his spine as he absentmindedly reaches for his chopped hair, lightly resting on his shoulders, only half his mind on customs. “I could’ve sworn I’d had it up during the trip,” Alex murmurs to himself.

“What was that, sir?” The customs officer perks her head up, over her shoulder, eager to help him.

Alex makes an unintelligible noise from the back of his throat. “I, uh, no, I’m good. Thanks.” _“I’m good, thanks?”_ Alex mentally chides himself while putting on a weak smile, _“She didn’t offer you anything.”_

The officer turns around fully, the bronze pin on her shirt flashing. She hands him his passport and visa, smiling kindly, seemingly unfazed by Alex’s misstep. “If that’ll be all, sir, you can head just over—right over there to check your bags.” She leaned over the marble tabletop and pointed somewhere off to Alex’s right.

Alex turns toward where her finger directs him. “Um, can, could I take one of your hairbands please?” A random thought, really, but it’s a somewhat better leave-taking than just _leaving._

The woman eyes Alex’s hair, as if she only just now noticed it, but loses none of her perky demeanor. “Absolutely! Here you go!” She peels a black one off her wrist from under her cuff and hands it to him.

Alex mutters a “Thank you,” and a “Bye,” raising his free hand slightly as he retreats to the baggage check.

A couple of tedious hours later, Alex steps out onto the sidewalk and is immediately bombarded again by, well, _everything_. It sounds like a zoo, and the exhibits are different types of people and automobiles, and it looks like one of those old paintings with tons and tons of people, all doing something incredibly unique and different, giving Alexander a feeling of wonder and a feeling of being massively overwhelmed by everything at once.

And Alex instantly loves it.

He takes a deep breath. Alex smells the gray and red and yellow and green and blue of the city. He smells the unique mix of gasoline, cigarettes, and hotdogs. It smells of crowds and music and together.

It smells of home.

He pushes his way through the crowd, tugging his suitcase behind him, apologizing profusely though no one pays any heed. He squats down onto the curb, pulling out his phone to look up how to find a taxi.

Before he can open Google, though, a flash of yellow catches his eye. Springing up from the concrete and out between parked cars, he frantically waves his hand, trying to catch the cab as it crawls to a stop at a red light. The light flashes from red to green and the cab speeds away.

Confused and slightly frustrated, Alex tries again, to no avail. He travels up and down the block, looking for cabs, but not one that he finds stops for him. He trudges back to where he was before, fighting the urge to sit back down. Glancing around again, he catches a glimpse of a formal-looking businesswoman, tapping her foot impatiently, cell phone in hand. Alex approaches her for help.

“Excuse me, miss—uh, ma’am, but, uh, you wouldn’t know, do you know where the nearest…where is the nearest subway station? Ma’am?” Alex silently curses himself for his stuttering (though it’s totally justified. The woman is glaring at him like he just burned her house down and, without heels, she would still have a head over Alex.)

Her cell phone buzzes, and she glances at it for a second. She looks back at Alex again, her look of disgust changed to look of confusion. She hitches her blonde, drawn-on eyebrows high on her forehead and points to a giant staircase, leading menacingly into the ground, rimmed by green railing…and a giant black sign that said “Subway” with green and yellow dots below it containing white letters.

Alexander hurriedly mutters an embarrassed _thank you_ , bowing his head slightly and finally lets himself be herded down the stairs with his luggage clattering along behind him.

When Alex gets down into the first level of the subway station, he feels like he’s a part of a secret organization. (He also feels like a human rat, but he pushes that thought away. Only positive thoughts for the one and only New York City.) He walks over to a plastic map, looking for the street Alderige is on. He continues through the subway station, running the track name over and over again in his head so he wouldn’t forget it.

Alex (somehow) makes his way down to the right track, after a mystifying experience with the MetroCard machine, brushing hands with death at the turnstiles, cutting through three or four flights of jam-packed stairs, and finally shoving himself and his dusty suitcase into the stuffy train as the doors sweep shut behind him.

The train jerks forward in its ruthless manner and Alex’s hand instinctually flies up towards the plastic handgrip dangling above his head. Alex stays there, all but hanging from the handle, until the speed of the train evens out and he subtly slides his hand off the handle to the upright bar, which is uncomfortably cold and clammy and sweaty. Warm bodies cement him in where he stands, and Alex feels like he’s being crammed into himself, but nothing wipes the grin off his face.

Stop after stop, Alex is tugged back and forth in the ocean of people, the currents streaming in and out through the doors. At one stop, a boy (a boy who Alex finds particularly good-looking) presses his back against Alex’s, and Alex feels the warmth radiating from the boy like he’s made out of a piece of the sun.

A ding rings from the train car’s speakers and the announcer’s voice booms overhead, announcing the stop for Alderige. Alex prepares to stomp and shove through the train, but there’s no need. Teens of all different makes who made up most of the crowd swell through the doors. “They must all be Alderige students,” Alex thinks to himself.

Shortly after the doors had opened, most of the kids are gone except for Alex and the sun boy. The latter smiles a smile that matches his sunny demeanor perfectly, grandly gesturing Alex through the doors. Alex feels heat rise to his head, grabs his bag, and ducks out of the subway.

As the massive group of students migrates swiftly and quickly through the streets of Manhattan, Alex looks around at his peers, most different from him in every sense, but he feels more at home than he has in a long while. Even though there’s dyed hair, outrageous piercings, shaved heads, headscarves, and even tattoos, these people are more like Alex than any other person he’s encountered yet: they’re all geniuses.

Sure, that might be a _little_ braggadocious, but for the most part, it’s true. After scrolling through the endless info on their website and following their faculty-run Twitter page, Alex learned that Alderige accepts literally only the best.

(They also have one of the highest expulsion rates of all time, but that’s a mystery for later.)

They take in students from all over the world, hence the huge student body, which makes it one of the most iconic schools, like, ever. That’s right. The _whole damn world_. There was steep competition for Alex to get in, especially since he was applying for the full-ride scholarship for low-income households. And there’s definitely going to be even steeper competition once he actually gets there, which is in about four…three…two…

The herd of students floats up to the ivy-covered walls. Alex, along with many others, marvels at the intricate architecture as they approach the building. He hesitates a moment, the crowd weaving around him, and he draws a breath, trying to fill his already-filled lungs.

Yes, maybe he’s stalling a little bit.

Counting to ten, Alex hoists his suitcase beside him and strides up the lean marble steps and through the looming mahogany doors, the last of the students entering in front of him.

There are a million things he hasn’t done.

One of them is finding Aaron Burr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thx for reading! hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> find me on tumblr & wattpad as ruebbish


	2. I'm Not A Stalker I Swear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander is a little too enthusiastic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _this work of fanfiction is also posted on my wattpad account, ruebbish_
> 
>  
> 
> please enjoy!
> 
>  **warnings:** Slight language, referenced underage drinking/drug use

The grandiose halls of Alderige smell of Axe deodorant, which is not quite what Alexander had expected. The stinging smell of the cologne combined with the endless rambling of the especially talkative desk clerk is giving Alex one giant headache. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, impatiently waiting for the student in front of him to finish her gossip, he could swear they religiously use the stuff as Febreeze.

Once the student finally ( _finally!_ ) wraps it up, Alex shuffles to the round desk. A brightly smiling man with frizzy buzzed hair and a golden septum piercing greets him: “Hey…how are you today?”

Alex thinks that the receptionist holds the “heyyy” too long for a normal conversation.

The receptionist continues. “You here to matriculate?”

Alex’s brows shoot up and he begins to say, “The definition of matriculating is to enroll for college,” but he catches his tongue. A know-it-all is definitely something he does not want to be seen as. Instead, he responds, “Yeah, I’m here to…to register.”

“Great…” There’s a lilt in the receptionist’s voice again as he starts to rifle through a small plastic file cabinet to the right…no, left of the desk. “What’s your name again, hun?”

“Umm,” there’s fire in Alex’s ears. _Hun?_ Is that normal for here? “Hamilton. Alexander Hamilton.”

The receptionist smirks. “You a fan of James Bond?” He hands Alex a packet of papers and a pen. “Sign at all the exes.” His smirk melts into a genuine smile.

Confused, Alex stutters, “Ah, um, yeah…I guess—okay, yeah. Yeah. I mean—I will.” Alexander fumbles with the pen and begins to sign his way out of the abyss of papers. He experiments with about ten different signatures before finally settling on one reading _A. Ham_ with a swooping ‘a’ and ‘h’.

Alex hoists the stack of papers over the desk as the smiling receptionist hands him a schedule and a map, wrinkled by his long, manicured nails. He grins, “You’re free to go now, my good sir.” As he laughs, Alexander feels the stack of papers slip from his fingers and topple onto the floor. The receptionist laughs again and shoos a grimacing Alex away.

Quietly apologizing, Alex quickly backs away, scurrying through the towering concrete archway. Though he just wants to find a room with a bed and sleep for the rest of the day, Alex glances at the map to find the cafeteria, where the receptionist had said that the students would be preparing for dinner, and where Alex is hoping to find Aaron Burr.

As Alex lets his wayward sense of direction get him hopelessly lost in the winding hallways of Alderige, he contemplates how to start a conversation with Aaron Burr and how to explain to him why Alex is a fucking stalker.

 _“It’s not stalking though,”_ Alex swears to himself, _“It’s just being a really big admirer.”_

After taking another couple wrong turns and a few right ones, Alex realizes that the cafeteria is in the dorm building, which he is not in. Alex scampers to the dorms where he immediately finds a storage room to put his suitcase in and the cafeteria.

Alex pauses outside the swinging doors, hoping for the best.

The cafeteria is busier than he thought it would be, and Alex figures that early arrivals aren’t uncommon at Alderige since it’s still at least a week ‘til classes start. (If you were to read into it a little, you’d realize that a lot of the kids at Alderige can’t afford to fly in on time or their families don’t want them at home. Make of that what you will.)

Alex cranes his neck as much as he can without looking like an idiot, scanning the crowd for a face to match the headshot he saw on Aaron Burr’s Wikipedia page. (Yeah, his own Wikipedia page!!) It takes him a minute or so, but once Alex does find Aaron Burr, it’s not what he was expecting. Is face is dusty and unshaven, and his eyes are reddened and filled with exhaustion. He’s either been crying or smoking pot.

Maybe both.

Alex tentatively makes his way across the room towards Aaron Bur, trying (and failing) to not bump into anyone. Alex taps him on the shoulder, “Um, pardon me, are you, uh…”

Burr turns towards Alex, clearly startled at being acknowledged.

“Are, um, you Aaron Burr…sir?”

Aaron, less startled now, chuckles slightly condescendingly (which Alex does not like), “T’depends, who’s asking?

Alex stumbles over his words. Burr isn’t following the script that Alex had written in his head.

“Sure, sir. Well, I’m, uh, Hamilton? Alexander Hamilton.” He says it like a question. “I’m a, uh, really big admirer of yours.”

Burr smiles in an even more condescending manner than his tone. (Alex is beginning to not like him a little.) “Big fan of James Bond?”

Why is everyone asking that?

“I’ve, uh…” Alex glances up at Burr, “I’ve—I’ve been looking for you!” Alex bursts out. Yikes, that doesn’t sound okay.

“I’m getting nervous.” Burr teases. Ugh.

“Sir! No, I, uh, I heard that the former president of Princeton had a son and that he was in… uh, that he was pursuing law at Alderige, and I was like wow! I’m enrolled there! I could meet him!

Burr’s face remains unchanged.

“And I looked you up, and it turns out you’re, y’know, pretty—pretty cool! I saw the studies you did, and I totally agree with you!” Alex rambles on and on, not really thinking about what he’s saying until Burr catches Alex’s flailing hand mid-sentence to interrupt him.

“First of all,” Burr begins cooly with his _I’m-the-sensible-one-here_ voice, “It was the bursar you punched. He told me about it.”

Alex talked about that?

“Second of all, my parents are dead. That’s why there’s no recent activity on them. Third of all—”

“Wait, you’re an orphan? Of course! That’s so cool!” Realizing what he’d just said, Alex stutters out, “I mean, it’s ‘cause I’m an orphan. Don’t you wish that we could get more credit for what we do? I mean, you and I, we’re both orphan geniuses and nobody’s ever written a report or done anything special—” Alex cuts himself short, remembering the full-ride scholarship he has based on his situation.

Burr runs a hand over his mouth. “Can I buy you something? A soda, maybe?”

Alex pauses.

“Or maybe…” Burr grins mischievously and pulls a plastic card out of his back pocket. “Maybe something more hardcore?”

Alex peers at Burr’s ID. “You’re twenty-one?”

Burr lets out a short laugh. “Nah, it’s fake. I know a guy.”

A grin breaks across Alex’s face as he accepts.

 

They arrive at a 7-eleven down the street at around seven-thirty in the evening with Alex suddenly doubting that getting drunk off of cheap beer with a nearly complete stranger is a good idea. Burr had assured him that they’d be back at the dorms with plenty of time to spare before the ten o’clock curfew.

Burr opens the door with an exaggerated bow, and Alex feels a strange need to curtsy.

And that’s when he realizes that Burr practically asked him on a date.

Just the two of them, at night, drinking, alone, _alone_.

Well, Alex doesn’t have, like, feelings feelings for Burr. And Aaron definitely doesn’t _like_ like Alex. Right?

Burr behind him, Alex strolls slowly down the fluorescently-lit aisles. The heels of Burr’s dress shoes clack on the polished linoleum while Alex soaks in the artificiality of everything.

There’s a strong hand on Alex’s shoulder. Burr.

“You ever been in a seven-eleven before?”

Alex shakes his head. “I just came in from the Carribean…today, actually.”

Burr laughs.

Alex adjusts the strap of his laptop bag on his shoulder.

“Damn.” Burr sighs. “Never been to a seven-eleven…” His voice trails off, and he laughs again.

Alex strains to laugh with him. “Yeah, there’s a lot I’m new to—a lot I’ve never tried before. Like—” Alex takes a cardboard box from the freezer, cold steam dripping from behind the glass door, “Twink…Twin—Twinkies? What even are those?”

Burr takes the box from Alex and wipes flakes of ice off the front before putting it back in the freezer. “They’re like cakes filled with vanilla ice cream.”

Alex murmurs a gentle, “Wow,” (what he really wants to say is: “There must be a shitload of preservatives in there.”) He scans the store again, something catching his eye. “What…” He jogs down the aisle, moving an arm towards the giant poster on the wall. “What the fuck are Slushies?”

Burr’s face shows genuine shock. “Lord, you’ve never had a Slushie before!” He slaps a hand to his forehead and shakes his head. “Screw the beer, we’re getting you a Slushie.”

Alex is completely mesmerized by the machine gushing color, and once he gets ahold of his Slushie, he eagerly slurps it until there’s an intense pounding in his head.

Burr laughs as Alex bends over with his hand to his head. “That’s brain freeze. It’s what happens when you eat or drink cold stuff too fast.”

Alex rubs the bridge of his nose with the heel of his hand to dull the pain, not finding _anything_ funny about his situation.

 

They step outside into the crisp air and Alex’s brain freeze fades. He returns to sipping on the red straw (slowly, this time) and takes a seat on a yellow parking curb.

He and Burr share their silence, listening to car horns blaring by. Alex inspects weeds peeking through a crack in the sidewalk and sucks on his straw, feeling bits of ice on his tongue and the roof of his mouth. After about five minutes, three especially loud voices drift around from the back of the building.

Alex looks up from sprout in the concrete and sees a trio emerging from the alleyway. Two of the guys, one really tall with a short, puffy ponytail and very intense stubble and the other shorter and stockier with dark skin and short hair and a blue headband wrapped around his forehead careen drunkenly with their arms around one another.

And trailing them is the hottest guy Alex has ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, please comment any criticisms.
> 
> find me on tumblr & wattpad as ruebbish


	3. You're Gorgeous But No Homo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander gets ahead of himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _this work of fanfiction is also posted on my wattpad account, ruebbish._
> 
> please enjoy!
> 
> **warnings:** explicit language, underage drinking, mild sexual reference, referenced homophobia, **_fReNcH_**

Wow.

Alex feels a balloon of heat rise to his head as the kid steps into the flickering glow of the streetlight, holding a brown glass of beer. Liquid jumps out of the bottle, sloshing on the kid’s sweatshirt as the tall guy shoves him.

His hair floats like a cloud made of fire behind him, messily tied away from his face. Freckles dot his skin like splatters of brown and orange paint. He’s tall, taller than Alex but not as tall as his friend, and his t-shirt stretches tautly across his shoulders. His eyes are bordered by thick eyelashes, and his smile…good god, his smile. His lips are full and pink and stretched into a huge, shining grin that sets dimples high in his cheeks and on his chin.

Alex notices that he stood up when he feels his jeans tighten around his hips and thighs. Hoping nobody noticed, he sits down.

Burr rolls his eyes. “Should've expected to see you here.”

The tall guy giggles and the hot redhead pouts dramatically and throws himself at Burr, who tries and fails to shake him off.

“C’mon, Burr, why ya gotta be like that?” The redhead laughs breathily.

Burr finally manages to escape. He walks backward, facing the group, and pick his Slushie up from the curb. “Fuck off, Laurens. You’re drunk and stupid.”

The redhead, Laurens, only smiles wider and tosses his empty bottle of beer in the green Dumpster next to the 7-eleven. “Watch your fuckin’ language, dude. Don’t fuckin’ curse around little kids!”

Alex braces himself for the mocking look that would be thrown his way (he’d been through plenty of teasing about his height), but Laurens instead shoots it at the tall guy with the poofy ponytail, who blows a raspberry in return.

“And don’t tell me to fuckin’ fuck off, you little fuck,” Laurens giggles, still facing his friends. He chants, “Fuck, fuck, fuckitty fuck-a-fuck.”

The three break out into cackles, the tall guy howling in French, “Ah, I love that musical!”

Burr rolls his eyes for the fiftieth time that night. He grabs Alex’s shoulder with a strong hand and turns him away. “C’mon, Alexander, let’s go. It’s almost curfew.”

“Wait, wait-wait-wait-wait-wait-wait-wait-wait-wait-wait.” Laurens holds up his index finger. “Why’re’ya leaving? You just got here.”

Burr checks the time on his phone. “Actually,” he rolls his eyes _again_ (Alex swears his face is going to get stuck like that), “You’re the ones who just got here. It’s been half an hour for us.”

Laurens fake-pouts again. (Alex finds it kinda hot.) “Aww, why can’t’cha stay for a lil’ bit longer? We—I—we were having fun!”

Alex hears a little bit of a strange accent peeking through the typical American. He’s heard it before on the radio…maybe some sort of southern. It’s slight but just enough for Alex to notice.

Burr tugs on Alex’s sleeve. “Hamilton, let’s go.”

Laurens rambles on. “Well, if you _really_ don’t want us here, we can leave, _right,_ Laf?” For no apparent reason, he looks pointedly at the tall guy. Laf (what kind of name is _Laf?_ ) snaps out of the intoxicated trance he was in and babbles out a bunch of curse words, both in French and English.

Alex laughs at his clumsy blend of the two languages, which draws all eyes towards him. He takes a step backward, pretending to scratch his nose.

Laurens giggles and approaches, smiling kindly. “Well,” he says in his slightly-Southern singsong, “Who’re you?”

The other guys are sent into a flurry, the burly one stepping next to Laurens and the French guy, Laf, shoves in between them, purring in his French drawl, “Who are you?”

Alex reminds himself that he needs to meet new people, and lets his hand fall from in front of his face and holds it out for Laf to shake. He exclaims, “Hi!” Nope, no, too much, reel it in, Alex. Be more damn chill. “Hi,” Alex repeats himself, chiller this time. “I’m Alexander Hamilton—”

Before he could properly finish his introduction, Laf takes Alex’s extended hand and presses a kiss to it. Alex stiffens and pulls away, feeling his face grow redder by the minute.

Laughing, Laf stands back up and the burly guy swats his shoulder and begins to messily make signs with his fingers. Laf laughs again and whips his hands around in response. He begins, “Sorry, ‘Erc…” But he trails off as he continues signing.

‘Erc grunts.

Feeling out of place, Alex tries again, “I’m Hamilton. Do you go to Alderige?”

Laurens laughs and takes Alex’s outstretched hand into a handshake, which gives Alex shivers trailing up his arm. He feels the warmth of Laurens’s hand in his bones.

“Yeah, we all do.” Laurens snorts, nodding at the other two. He adds, “What’re you in for?”

Not quite catching the jest, Alex slips over his words, distracted by the fact that their hands are still clasped together. “Yeah, no, I’m, uh, I’m here on scholarship and I’m aiming for—to get another one to King’s College, and, uh, and I’ve—”

Laurens cuts Alex off with another laugh. God, that beautiful fucking sound will one day be the death of Alex. “Not exactly what I meant, but alright.” Alex trips over his thoughts, trying to come up with something to say, but Laurens slaps a hand on Alex’s shoulder.

“Yo, it’s cool. I’m John Laurens, and yes, before you ask I’m the son of Sir Jackass de Bitchface Henry Laurens, ex-senator of Virginia,” Suddenly sober, he continues, “I’m aiming to go to Harvard or someplace for racial injustice studies, to become a historian or lawyer or activist of some sort.”

Alex grins and nods. This close, he can see that Laurens’s tan skin is dotted with a lot more freckles than Alex could’ve ever imagined on a single human being. The wisps of hair surrounding Laurens’s face a are illuminated from behind by the streetlamp, giving him a crown of flame.

Alex’s observations of Laurens’s striking red aesthetic is interrupted by Laf, who dives between the two, rambling, “Hey, hey, hey—what—what’re you two lovebirds doing over here, all alone?” He stands up straight and enthusiastically shakes my hand. “ _Bonjour, mon ami._ I’m Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, le Marquis de Lafayette, ‘tis a pleasure to make the acquaintance.”

He rambles on and on (sometimes in French, sometimes in English) about how he immigrated from France after he was drafted into the army but escaped by buying a boat—wait, buying a boat at 11? _“Is this how people feel when_ I _talk to_ them?” Alex thinks.

The ‘Erc guy taps Marie Joseph Paul Yives whatsit on the shoulder, calmly signing at him with a smile on his face.

Mary Josh whatever-it-was turns to ‘Erc with an alligator-tear-stained face and put a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Nobody cares? _Nobody cares?_ Everybody cares, ‘Ercules, as they _should!_ ”

‘Erc (did Mary Josh say Hercules?) laughs and introduces himself to Alex (a tad bit too loudly), “Sup, man, my name’s Hercules Mulligan. Nice to meet you. Great to meet you, dude.” His voice is shaky and croaky like he hasn’t used it in a while.

Alex pops out a question before he can catch himself. “Are—are you deaf?” Immediately recognizing how offensive that must be, he stammers, “Oh, oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize—”

Much to Alex’s surprise, Hercules laughs ( _“This would be a good time to use the word ‘guffaw,’”_ Alex thinks.) and begins, “Yeah, I don’t—I don’t, uh…” His voice wears out and he turns to Mary Josh and signs something.

Mary Josh translates: “’Erc is fine with you saying ‘deaf’ in that, er, manner. Does not mind, not really.”

Alex inquires, “Wait, then, how did he understand—”

“’E reads lips well enough to get by.”

“Oh.”

Alex feels a hand on his shoulder for the third time that night, and it’s been progressing from condescending to creepy to downright annoying. “Hamilton. Let’s bounce.”

Barely turning, Alex says, “Well, Burr, curfew is ten, isn’t it?” He glances back at the trio. “I’m sure we could spare some time to hang around here for a little while longer with Laurens and Hercules, and, uh, Mary Josh…de…”

“Lafayette.” Mary Josh, newly deemed Lafayette, slaps a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Call me Lafayette.” He then proceeds to crack up at something Hercules signs him.

Burr mumbles, “This is a mess. This night was a mess, y’all are a mess, this whole fucking…” He stalks off, and Alex starts to follow. Burr throws his arms up and yells, “A whole fucking mess!”

Alex continues to walk after him, but Laurens brushed his fingers against Alex’s forearm. “Hey,” Laurens smiles gently.

Alex tries to keep his mind away from the fact that Laurens just touched him very, very intimately. _“No, no, no. Stop. You hear his southern accent! He’s definitely not gay. Super non-gay.”_ Alex gives himself a list of reasons to not be gay for this guy. _“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”_

_“Do abso-fucking-lutely not get ahead of yourself.”_

Laurens continues, “Why don’t’cha stay with us for a while?” He holds out a hand.

_“Too late.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! please comment any criticisms.
> 
> find me on tumblr & wattpad as ruebbish


	4. A Tale of Drunks and Requited Hard-ons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander doesn't want to take chances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _this work of fanfiction is also posted on my wattpad, ruebbish_
> 
>  
> 
> thanks for reading, please enjoy!
> 
>  **warnings:** underage drinking, referenced drug use, some sexual content, swearing, referenced/past abuse, referenced homophobia, _**trashy metaphors**_

Alex glances down at Laurens’s outstretched hand, knowing that this would affect the rest of his high school career.

If Alex follows Burr, he knows for a fact that he’ll have a very successful four years academically, he knows that he’ll be taught all the rules and how best to uphold them, he knows that he’ll get a recommendation for all the clubs he wants to join, and he knows that he’ll be an all-around model student.

If Alex takes Laurens’s hand… _well._

Who knows.

_“Did I not tell you to not get ahead—”_

Telling the voice in his head to go fuck itself, Alex grins and grabs Laurens’s hand. Alex lets the electricity from their contact sizzle through his skin, up through his arms and veins and straight to his heart.

Their gazes meet, and Alex is stunned by the depth of Laurens’s eyes, how their color changes from blue to hazel too brown to gray every second longer Alex looks at them like his eyes are shattered mirrors with shards of color fracturing across his eyes.

“Great. We’ll start heading back to the dorm, then, yeah?” Laurens’s eyes twinkle.

They look like the plastic kaleidoscope that Alex once found on a beach back in Nevis. They look like when he used the kaleidoscope to look at the trees and the deep ocean and the cloudy sky. Like an abstract work of art that would hang in a museum, down the back hallway.

Alex’s examinations (read: trashy metaphors) are fleeting, though, as Lafayette collapses onto Laurens, pressing his back to Laurens’s, jabbering through tired lips in a nonsensical French-English blend.

Laurens stumbles forward under Lafayette’s weight. Alex, still verklempt from his intensive studies of Laurens’s eyes, seizes up and clamps onto Laurens’s hand. The two are forced together, bodies fitting together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, their lips inches apart.

Alex, at this moment in time, would otherwise be hypnotized by Laurens’s lips, or how the two click together so naturally, but all he is aware of is how his erection is being pressed flush against Laurens’s thigh.

Laurens’s breath hitches and Alex can feel his lungs stutter. They both gather enough sense to step backward. Alex stumbles away, crossing his arms over his chest and smiling so wide his face hurts. Laurens, eyes wide and ears pink, scratches the back of his neck.

Lafayette, seemingly unaware of anything that just happened, begins rambling angrily: “If you two don’t get your sorry excuses for asses down that motherfuckin’ street I’ll throw them down there myself. You as well, Mulligan, get your fine ass back to the dormitory so I can finally do what I’ve wanted to do all night, hot-ass motherfucker!”

Laurens giggles, a hand over his lips. “Okay, you can cut the gushy romance, Laf. You’re so sweet.”

Alex wonders if Lafayette and Hercules are together. Maybe…maybe being gay here is okay. But Alex doesn’t want to take chances.

Because he remembers what happened when he held hands with that cute boy back in Nevis, the beating from the teacher, the names from other kids, and his parents—his dad, in particular, 3 years before he left—going batshit crazy on him when he got back.

Alex has always been who he is, and he’s not backing down from that. Around homophobes, he’ll still be himself, just…not on the outside. It’s what’s on the inside that counts, right?

Still. Alex isn’t going to risk it.

Mulligan walks down the sidewalk after Lafayette, motioning for Alex and Laurens over his shoulder. He runs up and laces his arm with Lafayette’s, signing something to him.

Alex and Laurens begin to walk, bumping shoulders on the small, back-alley sidewalk. They pause, trying not to touch each other again even though it’s what Alex would prefer. Alex slurps his Slushie, and Laurens, trying to diffuse the tension, leaps back and with a grand swooping gesture, says, “After you, my liege.”

Alex can’t help but giggle. “No, no, my good sir, after you, after you.” He leaps even further back than Laurens and sweeps his arms forward.

Laurens giggles with Alex, stepping behind him and pushing him forward. “No, no, no, no, after you, I insist.”

 _“So much for not touching,”_ Alex thinks to himself, giggling as Laurens shoves Alex down the sidewalk.

The pair, giggling like toddlers on weed, run to catch up with Lafayette and Hercules, who are strolling along arm-in-arm. Alex and Laurens wheeze, calming down, leaving the air empty but for the blaring of passing cars and the buzz of the wind.

After a couple minutes of silence, Alex eyes Lafayette’s and Hercules’s linked arms and whispers to Laurens, “Are..are they to—together?”

Laurens glances at him, then the couple in front of him. “Yeah…I mean, yeah, I guess they are.” He knits his brows and thinks for a moment. “I mean, they, uh, never said anything about it. Like, outright.” He turns back to Alex and shrugs. “I guess they are. I’ve never seen them, like, kiss or anything, but I guess they are.”

“Hmm.” Alex nods. Louder, he asks, “So how is it at Alderige? Do you like it there?”

Laurens smiles. “It’s terrible,” he responds. “The competition is rough, classes are so, so difficult, and—and, it’s so competitive. My _god_ , it’s so competitive.”

Alex sees Lafayette and Hercules nodding.

“Your grades fall below a D+, boom, you’re done. _Finite. Termino._ The end, fucked over, out. Expelled.”

Laf nods, enthusiastic, his eyes widening dramatically. Hercules nods grimly. “Worse than death.”

Laurens laughs as Alex scours his brain for where that reference comes from.

“But a thing—a couple things—to know.” Laurens continues. “If you wanna get in with the crowd, the student council is the place to _be_. You get a say in the school’s policies and such, and you get to meet a bunch of charmers like _me_ …” He frames his face with his hands, and Alex realizes that Alderige is packed wall-to-wall with a bunch of nerds.

“Next thing—Mr. Washington is the _best._ You don’t _really_ need to know this, ‘cuz you’d’ve figured it out sooner or later, but I just wanna say. He’s in charge of the kids who come before the school year starts and he’s great. He’s an American Studies teacher and he’s the head of the student council party that’s not in office right now. He’s great.

“Next thing—dorms. They’re two people each, except for the freshmen’s. The freshmen dorms are the ones with the center room, you know, and then two bedrooms off of it. Those are for four people. And you get to choose your own dorm-mate, as long as they’re the same gender and same grade.” Laurens smirks, elbowing Alex. “You know who to call, dude.”

Alex nods, trying to contain his giddiness.

“Wait. You’re not a freshman, right? You're a senior?”

Alex nods.

“Good.” Laurens grins.

Laurens want to room with _him?_ With Alex?

“The last thing—Hercules isn’t a student. He’s an a-s-l translator aide. Just thought you should know. So don’t go to him to get the homework answers: he’s already scammed more than one unsuspecting student.”

Hercules grins.

They continue down the sidewalk, talking about school and telling stories. Alex doesn’t contribute much except for the occasional laugh or slurp of his Slushie, but he smiles the whole time.

Sure, Alderige High is packed with nerds.

But Alex knows he’ll fit right in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed!
> 
> find me on tumblr & wattpad as ruebbish


	5. How to Care For a Drunk Person:  Elevators, Changing, and Bed-Sharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander is a good babysitter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _this work of fanfiction is also published on my wattpad, ruebbish_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> hullo!
> 
> sorry for not updating sooner, i got sick. also sorry for how short this is, i promise promise promise it will be longer next time. [insert awful innuendo here.]
> 
> anyways, here ya go!
> 
> **warnings:** implied underage achohol use, implied/referenced homophobia, implied/mild sexual content/references, cursing

“Fuck!”

Lafayette collapses face-down onto the tiles in the foyer in front of the receptionist’s desk. The receptionist, the same guy from earlier, looks at Alex strangely. “Nice friends,” he says.

Alex nods slightly, not sure how to react. Turning back to Lafayette, who is still mumbling incoherently into the floor, Alex slings Lafayette’s arm around his shoulders.

Laurens enthusiastically yells, “No homo!” and throws his arm around Alex’s shoulders as well.

Alex rolls his eyes and trudges to the dorm building. He grabs his luggage from the storage (which he now realizes is a janitor’s closet) and heads down the hall to the elevators.

It arrives immediately, the doors opening with a _ding_. Alex asks Hercules, the least drunk of the three, “What’s your dorm?”

Hercules sways and mumbles, “Fl—floor 4…room—room 27…I think?”

Alex bites his lip and presses the 4.

 

They get to the fourth floor when Hercules shakes Alex’s shoulder and holds up 7 fingers.

Alex holds back an exasperated sigh and presses the 7.

 

The elevator doors open on the seventh floor and Alex stumbles out with Lafayette clinging to Alex’s luggage as Alex drags it along and Laurens gliding against the wall beside him. Hercules stomps behind them.

Alex quickens his pace, hoping that they don’t run into any other students out in the hallways. Luckily enough, they successfully make it back to their dorm room alive.

Laurens fumbles with the key to the door. It finally swings open and the four stumble inside.

Someone switches the lights on. There’s a pile of luggage to the left of the door, wedged in between the wall and the two dressers. In the wall to the right of the door, there’s the bathroom. Further in, the room opens up with two twin-size beds, a nightstand in between them, and two desks at the foot of the beds.

Alex sets his suitcase down with the other luggage. “Um…what are the sleeping…arrangements? I—I wasn’t aware that the beds were so—so small.”

Nobody says a word. Instead, Laurens collapses on the far bed, Lafayette sits on the closer one, and Hercules grabs his bag and heads into the bathroom.

“Oh…okay. I guess.”

He huffs and sets his laptop bag down on his suitcase. “Are we just…gonna…”

Hercules emerges from the bathroom in a t-shirt and sweatpants. Alex looks at him closely and notices that his chest is…does he have…

Hercules kicks off his shoes and looks up. “You need to help Laurens get changed.” He then begins to gently nudge Lafayette.

Alex stutters, “W—what? Wa…what? I need to what?”

Hercules gestures to himself. “Pajamas. Just let him sleep in boxers. No shirt, no pants. Just.”

Alex lets his hair fall into his face to hide his blush. “Okay.” He walks over to Laurens and takes off both their shoes. He grabs Laurens’s wrist. “C’mon, Laurens. I—we gotta get you changed.” Laurens whines and lets Alex pull him to the bathroom. Alex takes a deep breath and tries again to suppress the feeling building below his bellybutton.

They enter the bathroom, Alex closing the door softly behind them. The toilet is across from the door, a shower to the right of the toilet, and a sink to the left. Laurens begins to fumble with the hem of his shirt. Alex takes a shuddering breath and moves to help him.

Laurens hums and raises his arms above his head. Alex lifts Laurens’s shirt up, their chests brushing for the briefest moment when Alex stand on tiptoes to get the shirt over his head. Laurens sluggishly moves his hands to his waist, pulling his pants down in a swift motion. Alex presses his legs together, crouching down to help Laurens step out of his jeans. He dumps both items of clothing on a shelf in the linen closet.

Laurens hums again. “Don’t _you_ need to get changed too?”

Alex turns. “Huh?”

“You need’a…” Laurens waves Alex’s clothes.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah…okay.” Completely forgetting about the pajamas in his suitcase, Alex hurriedly and clumsily pulls his shirt over his head. He steps out of his pants and bundles them up in his arms. Laurens looks Alex up and down, and Alex feels his shoulders curl. Laurens grins and gives Alex a thumbs-up. They leave the bathroom, and Laurens touches a hand to the small of Alex’s bare back and guides him back to the farthest bed.

They pass Lafayette and Hercules, whose chests rise and fall in sync as they sleep side-by-side, their arms carelessly slung over each other.

Laurens flops onto the other bed, burrowing under the covers. Alex hesitates by the nightstand, unsure of what to do. He asks Laurens, “Do you want me to—I mean, should I sleep on the floor?”

Laurens’s nose scrunches up as he shakes his head. He scooches towards the left side of the bed and pats the empty spot next to him. “I don’t bite. I’m normally the one getting bitten if you know what I’m sayin’.” Laurens giggles.

“Okay,” Alex replies shakily. He slides under the covers facing Laurens.

Laurens, content, settles in and goes right to sleep.

“Okay,” Alex repeats softly. “Okay, this is _fine_. He’ll—I’ll be fine.” He slips himself under the covers. Due to the size of the bed, Alex is close enough to Laurens that he can feel Laurens’s breath.

Alex takes a few steadying breaths of his own. _“You’re probably just overreacting.”_ He tells himself. _“Hercules and Lafayette are over there, and they’re sharing a bed like it’s no big deal. And it probably isn’t. You just make a big deal of things that aren’t.”_ Alex studies Laurens’s face, how his freckles drape across the soft planes of his face.

Alex decides that it’s too late at night to be staring at a hot guy and rolls over, expecting a good night’s rest. He’s waiting for sleep to come when he feels Laurens’s arm snake around Alex’s torso. Laurens pulls closer to Alex, resting his arm on Alex’s hip and his head on Alex’s shoulder.

Alex blinks as starbursts of red cloud his vision. Maybe sleep won’t come so easily after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! (it will be longer next time i swear!)
> 
> wattpad & tumblr: ruebbish


	6. How to Care For a Drunk Person:  The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander goes on a boat for the second time this week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (note: this fanfic isn't on wattpad, from this chapter forwards. that site has taken 15 years off my life.)
> 
>  
> 
> yo
> 
> so
> 
> i maybe definitely forgot about this fanfic
> 
> but here, have it
> 
> hope you enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
>  **warnings:** implied underage drinking, implied underage drug use (barely tho), cursing (oh no what a shocker)

Alex wakes up the next morning to sunlight filtering through the white shades and the faint sound of banging.

He sits up and sees Laurens sitting facing the foot of the bed, banging the back of his head against the wall.

Alex sighs and kicks off the covers. He walks over to Laurens and sits down next to him. Laurens stills his head and groans, “I’ve thrown up twice in the past half-hour.”

Alex nods. “That’s what happens.”

“My head is pounding.”

“Probably because you’re banging your head against the wall.”

“Not anymore, I’m not.”

Alex peeks at Laurens’s phone. It reads 7:34 am. “It’s early. You should go back to sleep.”

Laurens groans again. “Okay. Could I have some water?”

Alex stands and nudges Laurens’s side with his toes. “Yeah. Now get back in bed.” Laurens drags himself back to the bed.

Alex finds a small stack of paper cups next to the sink in the bathroom as if the people who organized the dorm anticipated hungover students. He fills four cups with water and down one of them. Carefully, he carries the other three out to the bedroom. Alex leaves two on the nightstand next to Lafayette’s and Hercules’s bed, who are both still asleep, and hands the other to Laurens, sitting up as Alex approaches.

Water dribbles down Laurens’s chin and darkens the white linen sheets. He finishes the water with a satisfied sigh and sets the empty cup down on the nightstand. Without another word, he rests his head back on the pillow and drifts off to sleep.

Heading back to the bathroom to change, Alex figures that he should go out and buy something for the others’ headaches when they wake up. He pulls on some clothes and, as quietly as possible, slips out the door.

 

Alex walks up to reception. It’s a different person this time: she has long, dark dreadlocks and skin that Alex can’t help but compare her skin tone to a piece of toast, which makes his stomach grumble.

“Hi, I’m Theodosia, how can I help you?”

Alex decides that he likes her better than the other guy. “Hi, um, I’m Alex, and I’d like to know if there’s some kind of convenience store here?”

“There is, but if you’re buying medication, keep in mind that you need a valid school ID that proves you’re over 18.”

Dammit. “Um, well, my friends, they—all of them have headaches, and I was wondering if I could get some Advil or Tylenol or something.”

Theodosia begins to rummage through her purse. “This is one thing about being the morning receptionist,” she pulls out a small, white container of Tylenol. “You always have these on hand.” She pops open the cap and hands the bottle to Alex and winks. “More than a few times I’ve provided Tylenol for hungover kids.”

Alex is surprised that Theodosia figured out so quickly that his friends had hangovers.

“Now, I’m gonna trust that you’re not tryna get high on Tylenol. Also, ginger-flavored soda and a good breakfast help with hangovers.” She smiles toothily as Alex returns the bottle to her, six white pills in the palm of his hand.

Alex returns the grin and thanks her. He returns to the elevator, carefully keeping the pills cupped in his hands so he doesn’t drop them. Alex returns to the dorm to find Laurens sitting on the edge of the bed on his phone, and Lafayette and Hercules just stirring from their sleep. When Alex enters, they all look up at him.

He nods towards his cupped hands. “Nobody’s allergic to Tylenol, right?”

There’s a chorus of “no’s” as they gather around Alex, each taking two pills each. Once they’re all gone, Alex takes his laptop from his bag and takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

He’s about to check his email when Laurens says from his spot at the foot of the bed, “You’re not planning on just, like, being a lump there on your computer all day, are you?”

Confused, Alex looks at Laurens. “Is—is there anything else for me to do?”

Laurens laughs dryly. “I mean, you could at _least_ go downstairs in the common room or courtyard or cafeteria or something and be a _social_ lump, at least. You could talk to other students, you could go shopping in the school shop for spirit shirts, you could talk to Mr. Washington about school rules and shit, you could talk to the club presidents—”

“Okay, fine.” Alex sighs and closes his laptop.

“And plus—” Laurens continues, not acknowledging Alex’s surrender, “—There’s a whole city out there.” He gestures grandly towards the window. “If you wanna join me and Herc and Laf today, we’re going to Governors Island before it closes for the year. It’s pretty awesome.”

Alex stands and looks out the window. The city is gray and gold, sunlight glinting aggressively off of the high-rises and skyscrapers and the waves of the rivers. Alex shrugs. “Sure. I’ll come.”

Laurens grins like a madman and claps twice. “Okay, people, let’s get it moving. First thing on the collective agenda: get dressed. Ham-bone here already has that down, so Herc and Laf, get on that.”

Alex crinkles his nose. “Can that, like, _not_ be my nickname?”

Laurens backs towards his suitcase. “Well, then, you tell me. Whaddya want your nickname to be?”

Alex shakes his head. “I dunno. Just…just not that.”

Grabbing an outfit, Laurens shrugs and says in an awful British accent, “That can be arranged, sir Hamilton.” He knocks on the bathroom door, where Hercules and Lafayette are changing. “Yo, dudes, next thing on the collective agenda: find our new bestie a nickname. Also: hurry the fuck up, other people need to change, too.”

There’s no response.

“Laf, I know you can hear me, you little shit. If y’all are makin’ out in there, I swear to god, I—”

He’s interrupted by an oblivious Hercules and a smirking Laf leaving the bathroom.

Laurens huffs. “’Bout time.”

 

The four descend into the subway station. Laurens and Lafayette are loudly conversing about some TV show called _Yuri on Ice_ , which Alex does not question, while Hercules leads the way through the packed subway, eyes glued to his phone. Alex allows himself to be squashed in the middle of the pack. They hop on and off a couple different lines, Alex intermittently drifting in and out of conversation with Laurens and Lafayette. Hercules was, for the most part, still quietly sat, pounding away at the keyboard on his phone.

The late morning sun scorches Alex’s skin as the pack emerges from the subway. Hercules tucks his phone into his bag and diligently takes Lafayette’s hand, silently leading them through the crowded sidewalks.

They enter an old brick building, where Lafayette pays for four tickets. Alex opens his mouth to offer to pay Laf back, but Laurens nudges him and tells him not to worry about it. Alex frowns but drops it.

Alex steps onto the deck of the ferry, squeezing through the throngs of people stopped to take a picture of Lady Liberty. He follows Laurens’s auburn head into the boat, and they take a seat. Hercules, ever the babysitter, pulls a sleeve of Oreos from his bag and hands it to Alex.

Alex grins. He likes the feeling of being taken care of. “Thanks.”

He passes the sleeve down to Laurens and looks around at the rest of the crowd. It’s mostly white parents and their loud kids. But someone’s bald head and bloodshot eyes catch Alex’s eye.

“Aaron? What are you doing here?”

Burr, who was frowning down at his phone, looks up at Alex and frowns even more. “Hamilton,” He glances at Hercules, Laurens, and Lafayette, who are puzzled, amused, and giggling, respectively. “And company.”

Hercules waves, Laurens says hi, and Laf giggles again. “What are you doing, going to Governors Island all on your lonesome?” The latter asks.

Burr sighs. “Well, I was supposed to meet—” A horn blares as the ferry lurches forward. “I was supposed to meet Andrew J. here so we could, uh—ahem—so we could study at Governors Island, but apparently the dipshit doesn’t have time for me anymore.” He scoffs indignantly, muttering to himself.

Laurens presses a hand to his heart. “Aw, poor Burr is suffering from a broken heart. Well, Burr-ito, don’t worry. We will give you the solace you seek. Hang out with us on Governors Island.”

Hercules begins to object, but Lafayette reaches over and slaps his thigh. “C’mon, Burr, I promise: spend the rest of the day with us and you’ll have forgotten all about your little ex-boyfriend.”

Alex shakes his head. “I really don’t think that—”

“Well, he’s not denying it, is he?” Laurens whispers.

Alex closes his mouth and tells the voice in his head to stop overanalyzing Laurens’s tone.

Burr sighs through his nose. “Fine. But if anybody asks, I’m here because you dragged me along.”

Lafayette and Laurens high-five.

 

The horn squeals as the ferry stops at the dock. Everyone clamors over each other out the doors, and Hercules and Lafayette insist on forming a daisy chain. Alex’s hands are grabbed by Laurens and Burr, and he puts all of his focus into not doing anything stupid. He feels like his face is a million bazillion degrees, remembering his date thing with Burr last night and just Laurens in general.

They finally break free of the crowd when Hercules pulls them off to the side of the dirt path, into the shade of an old brick building.

“So,” Laurens calls them all into a huddle. Lafayette and Hercules oblige, but Alex and Burr stand back awkwardly. Laurens throws an arm around Alex’s shoulder and pulls him into the huddle. Alex inadvertently leans into the touch.

“So,” Laurens repeats himself, unaware of Alex hyperventilating next to him. “Here is where we decide if we want a calf workout or a thigh workout.”

“That is not what biking or walking does.”

“Shut it, Burrito. Ham, tell Burrito to shut it.”

“What? Is that my nickname?”

“Whatever. And not unless you want it to be. Y’all are useless. Anyways, you wanna walk or bike? Like, to get around the island.”

“Uhh…bike?” Alex feels lost.

“Oui, bike.” Lafayette turns to Herc. “’Herc says biking as well.”

“A’ight.” Laurens looks up at Burr. “Burrito, biking or walking?”

Burr shrugs. “I don’t fucking care. Biking, whatever.”

“’Kay then. It’s settled.”

They walk down the road towards a huge space filled with bicycle-like contraptions, but they have four wheels and four sets of pedals instead of just two. Lafayette goes up to the kiosk that says “RENT” and begins to talk to the attendee. He finally waves everyone else over to a bike, where the attendee hands them helmets.

They decide for Laurens to drive, because, Laurens says, “Laf would try to drive on the left because of weird French things, Herc can’t hear people screaming at him to turn, Alexander is too short, and I’m not about to trust Burrito with my life. No offense to anyone.”

Alex rolls his eyes as he takes the seat up front, next to Laurens. He absentmindedly spins the fake steering wheel in front of him as Hercules, Lafayette, and Burr pile into the backseats. Alex puts his feet on the pedals as Laurens undoes the brake. The bike begins to inch forward, and Laurens whoops as he grabs the steering wheel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did promise to make it longer, didn't i?
> 
> anyways, thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed.
> 
> tumblr: ruebbish


	7. Ice Cream, Girls, and a Sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander meets a girl at a trash can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's short
> 
> shut up
> 
> i know
> 
> y'all, i'm trying my best here
> 
> hope you enjoy
> 
> **warnings:** discussions of hollywood racism, sexual references kinda, cursing, _sHaRkNaDo_

Alex soon realizes that Laurens is not, in fact, the best suited to drive the surrey bike, despite his earlier statement.

After three and a half minutes of white-knuckling the handrails and wind tearing apart his ponytail, Alex staggers out of the bike onto the curb.

“Nope, nope, sorry. I’m not switching. We shook on this.” Laurens shakes his head, his ponytail flying behind him.

“What? What— _non, mon ami_ —I apologize, but I had not realized that allowing you to drive the surrey bicycle would mean you turning into a speed demon. And we did not shake anything. There was never any shaking of things involved.”

“What’re you talking about, Laf? I’ve always been a speed demon. And we did shake. And never say ‘shaking of things’ ever again.”

Alex collapses into the grass as Laurens and Lafayette bicker about who gets to drive. This petty, half-hearted argument is making Alex realize: these people have known each other for a few days, at least. Alex literally met them _last night_ , and more than half the party was drunk. And then he went back to the dorm with them. And slept in the same room with them. For god’s sake, he fucking _stripped naked_ in front of one of them.

Alex looks up at Laurens and he’s hit with a wave of relief that he was probably too drunk last night for his mind to keep hold of the memory.

Burr steps between Laf and Laurens. “Guys, chill the fuck out. Since you won’t let me drive,” the pair emits a chorus of “nopes” and “no’s,” and Burr continues. “Since you _definitely_ won’t let me drive, I think Hercules should.”

Laurens protests, “C’mon, man, I was doing just fine.”

Burr sighs. “For fuck’s sake, Laurens, I have actual windburn. Hamilton, don’t you agree?”

Alex swallows. “Uh, yeah. I mean, y’know, I barely know you guys, but from what I’ve seen, Hercules is the second-best driver here.”

“And who’s the first?” Laurens has a hopeful lilt in his voice as he drops to the grass with Alex.

Alex considers lying just to see Laurens’s face light up but tells the truth. “Burr,” Alex states matter-of-factly.

Laurens pouts. _Pouts._ His pout just might be cuter than his smile. “I hate you.”

 

Eventually, when Laurens relents, Burr climbs into the driver’s seat. Laurens climbs into the seat behind Burr, pout disappearing, saying something about the driver always protecting his side first as everyone else chuckles. Except for Alex, who has no idea why anyone was laughing.

“Do you really not know _The Office_?” Laurens asks as Alex climbs into the middle seat, next to Laurens.

Alex shakes his head. “I just came from the Caribbean yesterday. We didn’t have much there, so really no movies or shows or anything.”

Laurens gasps as Hercules stares in disbelief from Alex’s other side. “Have you seen anything?”

“Well, on the way over here, I watched…uh, shark—shark tornado? Sharknado. That’s what it was. It was pretty cool.”

“No.” The surrey rolls to a stop at an intersection, and Burr and Lafayette turn to look at him. 

Laurens continues to question him, “Your first experience of modern-age, American cinematography was _Sharknado_?”

Alex nods.

“Even _Breakfast At Tiffany’s_ would have been better.”

Burr turns to Laurens. “Do you not like _Breakfast At Tiffany’s_?”

Laurens crinkles his nose. “No. That Chinese character,” he puts the word “Chinese” in air quotes, “Mr. _Yunioshi_ or whatever his name was ruined the whole movie.”

Burr scoffs. “No, it did not. Audrey Hepburn, man! C’mon!”

“Well, yeah, the rest of the movie is pretty okay, but I cannot and will not watch Mickey Rooney, a white man, play a racist Asian character. That goes for _Sixteen Candles_ , as well. I absolutely refuse.”

“Dude.”

Lafayette pipes up, “I’ve never seen Tiffany’s breakfast movie, but ‘Erc says that John is correct. The character is racist.”

Burr clacks his tongue. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“You do realize, right, that your argument is making _you_ seem racist, right, Burrito? I mean, any one of us could destroy your political career at this school by going and telling them the story of how you defended _Breakfast At Tiffany’s_ racism. Though, I would never do that, because I am a good person.”

Burr rolls his eyes (holy shit, Alex thinks Burr has an addiction to rolling his eyes or something) and turns back to the road ahead of him. He mutters, “Good person, my ass.”

“Hmm? What was that, Burrito?” Laurens shouts over the rumbling of the wheels as everyone begins to pedal, the surrey lurching forward.

“I said, good person, _my ass!_ ” Burr yells over his shoulder.

Alex punches the back of Burr’s seat. “Guys! Chill, please.”

Laurens puts his feet on the pedals and grins. Hercules signs something at him, and Laurens rolls his eyes. “Okay, _dad_. Keep your eyes on the road, now.”

 

Two hours later, they’ve made it around the island once without stopping (a bet between Lafayette and Burr), switched up the seating arrangement in the backseat (Laurens was moved from the outside seats since he kept tried to jump out of the moving bike, action movie-style. He now has a pulled ankle and a sprained wrist) and got ice cream from an ice cream truck (in lieu of lunch).

Alex and Laurens sit in the surrey, contentedly lapping up their ice cream while Laf, Herc, and Burr try to bully one of those coin-operated binoculars into working. Alex looks over at Laurens, happily licking melted Cherry Garcia off his hand. The sunlight rests on his hair, giving it a golden luster that Alex finds aesthetically appealing.

Laurens looks up at Alex innocently and grins.

Alex snaps his head away as he begins to heat up.

Laurens nudges Alex’s foot with his own. “Y’know,” he starts, “You sure do blush a lot for someone who’s so tan.”

Alex turns redder.

“Hey. It’s not _bad_. It looks pretty. Your tan skin _and_ the blushing, both.”

Alexander clears his throat. _He called me pretty._ “Are—are you drunk or something?”

“Woah. _Woah._ It’s literally 3 in the afternoon, do you really think so little of me?”

“No, no, I just—you acted, uh, like this last night when—when, you know.”

“Oh.” Laurens scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, I think I blacked out.”

_Thank god._

“Though—I, um, I think I remember…you, uh, we had to get ready for bed? And we, um, in the bathroom…yeah.”

_Shit._

“But—yeah, there’s nothing after that. Did we—uh…did I…did you…do…?”

Alex is surprised by Laurens’s loss for words. “Umm…no, no, no no no no no no. No. We didn’t, uh…yeah, no.”

Laurens sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Okay, okay, good. Whoo.” The red disappears from beneath his freckles. “Okay. Argh,” he waves his hands around, “Okay.”

“Yeah.” Alex fights the urge to screw his eyes shut and scrunch up into a ball of cringe. But then, at the same time, some small, shameless part of him is proud of the fact that he had the power to make Laurens blush like that. Alex is the one who made Laurens trip over his words. _Alex_ is the one who made Laurens get all flustered, his pearl-colored teeth gnawing on his full, pretty, pink lips.

Alex isn’t the biggest fan of the shameless part of himself.

Lafayette clamors back into the surrey. “It is no use. That monstrous machine does not allow me to see the beautiful Lady Liberty. It stole from my own pocket!” He throws his head back in agony.

Burr and Herc climb into the front seats. “The tower viewer stole eight-fifty from me, as well as three-seventy-five from Mulligan and the five Lafayette found on the sidewalk,” Burr says resignedly.

Hercules glares at the machine.

Laurens shakes his head. “My God.”

“Yeah,” Burr says. “Um, also, someone needs to throw the leftover ice cream stuff away.”

“Dibs not doing it!” Laurens shouts at the top of his lungs. “I nominate Hamilton,”

Alex suddenly finds himself in possession of a pile of melted ice-cream covered trash. He walks over to a trash can on the other side of the street, but he bumps into a beautiful girl wearing a flouncy blue dress. “Hello there,” Alex purrs, a smirk stretching across his face. Alex isn’t awkward around girls. Guys are a completely different story, but with girls? With girls, he’s suave and flirty and can completely keep his cool.

“How are you doing this fine afternoon?” He says.

The girl giggles and blushes. “I’m good. Just—” she gestures to the trash can. “Just...throwing stuff away.” She smiles. “On this island.”

Alex tosses his friends’ shit in the garbage and chuckles. “Cool,” he raises his eyebrows. “Do you—d’you go to Aldridge?”

She throws her stuff away. “Yeah, uh, yeah. I do.” She wipes her hands on her skirt, then holds one out to shake. “Elizabeth Schuyler. Pleause to meet you,”

Instead of going for a handshake, Alex opts to kiss her outstretched hand. “Hello, Miss Schuyler.” As he rises, he winks at her. “I’m Alexander Hamilton.”

Her face turns so red Alex thinks she might explode. “Uh, well...nice meeting you!” She squeaks.

Alex waves. “You too,” he can’t help his eyes dropping to her ass as she runs away. “See you around!”

As Alex returns to the bike, everyone else is staring at him. He blinks. “What?” He asks.

Hercules and Lafayette initiate a round of applause. Herc even whoops.

“Dude,” Burr says, “That was pretty awesome.”

“Yeah?” Alex grins.

“Alexander,” Lafayette explains, “That was Eliza Schuyler.”

Alex raises his eyebrows, confused. “Yeah...I know…”

“Yep.” Laf nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, the Schuylers. _The Schuylers._ They’re the richest, hottest girls, like ever at Aldridge. The. They’re, ‘ow you say,” he turns to Herc, “Unattainable. They are unattainable, what every guy aspires to find in a girlfriend.”

Herc clears his throat.

“Ahem,” Laf puts a hand on Herc’s knee, “ _Most_ of the guys.”

“Well,” Alex says, slightly impressed with himself.

“Yeah,” Laurens smiles widely. “They’re all, like, really great people. Perfect people, some would argue. ‘Specially that one, Eliza. She’s super sweet.” Laurens nods. “Yeah.”

“Wow. Yeah, cool,” Alex smiles proudly.

 

As the sun falls towards the horizon, Laurens and Alexander climb to the top of a tower made of rope on the playground. The two sit there as the sky is lit on fire, reds and yellows streaked behind the Manhattan skyline. They watch the silhouettes of Laf and Herc canoodling on the rope net slung between two wooden posts on the other playset.

Laurens hums a tune under his breath. Alex doesn’t recognize it, but it’s pretty and he decides that he likes it.

Below them, Burr is talking to one of Eliza’s sisters, Angelica, Lafayette said. Angelica looks taken aback by something, and after saying a few more words, Burr backs away abruptly.

“So,” Laurens nudges Alex with his foot. “How did you like your first day _really_ being out on the town?”

Alex looks at Laurens, then back at the skyline. He considers his day: mostly exercise that will surely burn his calves the next morning and listening to his new friends argue over pop culture references that he doesn’t get. His eyes trace the horizon before he turns back to Laurens, eyelashes redder than the sky and eyes brighter than the setting sun.

“It was pretty good,” Alex says, a grin slowly seeping onto his face. “Pretty good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my dudes, it's really short and uneventful and i'm sorry
> 
> i promise plot will come soon
> 
> (i think)
> 
> tumblr: ruebbish


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